


e rank luck

by hypophrenia



Series: letters to no one [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen, i use love a lot bc i do love best clay but its in letter form so uh. yyeah nothing actually happens, its a catalyst okay 18 minutes till babylonia drops, okay look i say fujimaru ritsuka but technically its a self insert but not at the same time, schrodinger's self insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 19:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypophrenia/pseuds/hypophrenia
Summary: Wax drips down the edge of this one, written in a rush. The recipient and sender are messily scrawled, smeared near the end by an unsuspecting right hand.It's a pitiful sight, reeking of almost-dashed hopes.





	e rank luck

**Author's Note:**

> yooo the last one i wrote didn't work except it did on the class banner a while ago so now i'm rushing a new one. im so sorry to the one person who subscribed bc of my danganronpa fic. i have multiple wips one of them is bound to work out right
> 
> edit: BITCH

Dear Enkidu,

I never have, and never will be, one of the better masters. Maybe not even mediocre, really, since I never clear shops and I finish story quests weeks and months after everyone else. I’ve only got seven five stars after almost a year of playing, and my tactic is always hitting with buster chains (despite only having Cu Alter for an actual buster servant) and hoping I get a lucky crit.

I won’t get you. I don’t believe I will. I’ve got the luck of those shoujo heroines who have a plot designed around the fact they’re unlucky, which is bullshit because they always get lucky anyways and have love interests and special coincidences. 

Still, I’ll love you lots. I promised this to my Cu Alter, who I max ascended in two days flat despite having no Blazes of Wisdom and Bloodstone Tears. And this time I’ve got Blazes of Wisdom from the lottery boxes, every single ascension material you need, and enough other materials to get all your skills up to level seven. I’ve got enough love to go around, honest!

And while Gilgamesh, your dearest friend, is two-thirds god, I’m three-thirds a failure, so please take pity on a fool who can’t count to save her life. I’ve got a birthday in a few days, finals in a few weeks, and God to beat up when you don’t come home—and a death to await with growing dread.

You can understand, don’t you? Lying dead, waiting for an end, slow, pitiful, devoid of honor—kinning with Cyrano de Bergerac, maybe. I love you, maybe not with the flair I give to Cu Alter, or the depth that I allow Roman to take up, but just that amount I leave to you is love enough, isn’t it?

Give me a chance, and you’ll be soft-capped, skills forever stuck at seven, but I’ll love you as much as I possibly could. That’s the paltry little sum I can offer you, which is probably the opposite of an offering, now that I think about it.

I’ll love you and screenshot you to send to every Discord group I’m in, with the genuine joy and mindless boasting only a child could honestly express. And maybe my catalyst really is giving up, and maybe I’m trapped in a catch-22, Schrodinger’s _cat_ alyst, both one or the other.

Who else could ditch studying for finals but me? I’m an idiot and a idealistic, hopeful dumbass, too caught up in everything that could possibly bring her short-lived joy to worry about anything else. Those tests on Friday, the early language final next week: I’ll leave that up to Fate if you could just come home.

So come home soon, alright? Twenty or so minutes—then I meet God for an asskicking.

From the single most hopeless person,

Chaldea’s (only) master


End file.
